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Monday, 31 August 2015

Occasionally, a film will purport a basic premise which threatens to de-rail the entire movie. If the viewer can suspend their disbelief long enough to cross that bridge then that's great, but many will be unable to accept it unquestioningly. Before the political, socio-economic, and survival-morality quandaries are even raised in No Escape (spoiler: they escape), we're expected to believe that a man with a nose like Owen Wilson's and a woman with a nose like Lake Bell's have produced two (two) children with entirely normal, cute little button-noses? Really, mate? Really? *1

Yes, wading into 2015's cinematic waters with the political subtlety of a toddler with a claw-hammer comes John Erick Dowdle's No Escape (spoiler: they escape), in which the aforementioned Wilson and Bell play Jack and Annie Dwyer, a couple who have relocated with their young daughters to an Unspecified Southeast Asian Country™ because of Plot Reasons™ the day before a fully military coup sees a furious mob executing caucasians and their sympathisers because of Plot Reasons™. One things for sure, after the first shots are fired, all bets are off and there can be No Escape! (spoiler: they escape)

As you can probably tell by now, I didn't take this film too seriously. Luckily, No Escape (spoiler: they escape) takes itself so seriously that the audience doesn't have to. It's tightly filmed, and the tension is certainly there throughout, but a walk around Sainsbury's would seem this nerve-wracking if you filmed it in near constant close-up with hand-held cameras. Credit where it's due, the film is certainly well acted, yet the Dwyer family are never more than generic placeholder characters who the audience is meant to relate to purely because of their situation, rather than any character-building which has taken place. Pierce Brosnan is also along for the ride doing his best Ralph Brown, complete with an accent which he maintains 85% of the time.

But as much as The Good Guys™ are pencilled in, The Bad Guys™ fare even worse, and the subplot plot about Western international utility companies encroaching on foreign territories feels like a socio-economic version of white guilt, even though it's a version which doesn't attempt to sympathise with its revolutionaries in any way or even adequately explain the link between foreign ownership of the water company and a group prepared to assassinate the actual president of the actual country*2 (a point which isn't touched upon again after the opening scene in which it happens).

The real problem is that No Escape (spoiler: they escape) can't quite commit to its ultra-realistic style. For all the running, sweating and point-blank gunshots, the screenplay deliberately doesn't name the country it takes place in. Ostensibly an "unknown Southeast Asian" country, since the climax of the film shows that it shares a border with Vietnam, it can only be Cambodia, China or Laos. One school of thought dictates that there was probably a considerable amount of money from the Far East in the funding of the film, so it was thought wisest not to point fingers needlessly. But the thought also lurks at the back of your mind that the screenwriters are saying "oh, it could be any of those, they're all the same aren't they, one step away from revolution at any moment?". I'm sure that second reason's not the case, of course. I'm as absolutely sure of that as I am that for the characters is this film, there is No Escape (spoiler: they escape).

Imagine Die Hard where the building is a city, there's no John McClane, and the terrorists' seem weirdly underexplained. Now imagine that in a week's time that version of Die Hard will be on in the cinema, in three months' time it'll be out on DVD, in six months' time it'll be less than a fiver and then you'll never hear from it again.

That's No Escape (spoiler: they escape).

Not particularly.

Telly. Sunday evening.

Well it's competent enough, yet completely unmemorable.

Oh, probably.

I will look at you blankly as I struggle to remember it myself.

Not that I heard. I suppose the film-makers didn't want to puncture The Realism™.

No Escape features Pierce Brosnan, who made an appearance in The World's End, and Lake Bell who starred in Man Up, both of which were vehicles for Simon 'Dengar in The Clone Wars' Pegg.

*1 Hey, don't get me wrong, I actually love the noses on both of them, my own hooter isn't exactly nondescript, and I know they develop as people move through adolescence (see point two on this list), but the kids might as well be ginger for all the sense it makes in this film…

*2 For viewers in the UK, this would roughly equivalent to the EDL assassinating David Cameron because nPower is owned by a German company. And as ridiculous as that comparison sounds, I imagine its presence in this post is going to generate inadvertent page-hits for some time to come...

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Okay, full disclosure: I haven't seen the 2007 Hitman movie. I also haven't played Hitman. This film: not really made for me. Going to review it anyway. I wouldn't normally be rushing out to the cinema to see this (indeed I haven't rushed this time, either), but Agent 47 currently has a Rotten Tomatoes approval rating of 8%. That's low, even by game-adaptation standards, but I refuse to believe any film this year can be worse than Pixels…

The good news? It's not (although very few things could be). Movies based on branded video games are always tricky to get right due to the inherent differences in the formats, and Hitman: Agent 47 is no exception. The photography here is frequently stunning, and only let down by an over-zealous approach to editing which confuses fast-cuts for style. Aleksander Bach's direction is solid enough, and his cast do a remarkably convincing job considering the script they're given is so clunky it could be recreated with Lego. The story itself is pretty standard-fare for a Euro/techno/action thriller; emotionally sterile, but only in a way that's dictated by the plot itself.

But the problem isn't the editing, it's not the scripting, and it's not the story. No, the problem is that Hitman: Agent 47 is so boring. It's the same dilemma which has plagued Superman movies for years; when your central character is physically invincible and morally immovable, how the hell do you pivot an interesting story around them? The film's first act tells and shows us that Rupert Friend's Agent 47 is as close to bulletproof as needs be, and the second act explains that he's throughly amoral. Brilliant at his job, but not to the point that it's interesting to watch. Usually it'd be up to his female co-lead, Hanna Ware's Katia, or ever-present nemesis, Zachary Quinto's John Smith (no, seriously), to bring the angst and anger to the film, but these characters become necessarily less human as things progress.

So where's the jeopardy? How do you introduce the tension? Well, in this case, you apparently just don't. The film's homicidal setpieces are nicely choreographed (don't worry, it's only nameless henchmen being despatched), but they're few and far between. The rest of the screenplay consists of a lot of scowling, hand-wringing and grudge holding, all without any trace of feeling. I'd like to say that the disconnect was due to me not being hands-on familiar with the game franchise, but I honestly don't believe that's the case. I didn't expect to be moved to tears, but I didn't expect to be bored to them, either…

The film's called Hitman.
I expect to see people being killed.
There wasn't enough of that.

Really, is it too much to ask?

Not really, although the big-screen will certainly have an edge over watching this on your TV.

TV/Netflix.

Fuck, no.

Fuck, no.

No, but I'll expect a full and detailed justification.

There is. And it's textbook.

The film stars Rupert Friend who also appeared in Starred Up alongside Ben Mendelsohn, due to pop his head around the door in 2016's Star Wars: Rogue One.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Sunday, 30 August 2015

As the Summer ebbs to a close, the studios are starting to put out more niche fare, and Film 4's new biographical drama is leading the pack. A brutal exposé of the afternoon gameshow scene, Straight Outta Countdown covers the period from 1981 when a successful highbrow pub-quiz in the working men's clubs of Yorkshire was adapted for TV on a fledgling channel, through host Richard Whiteley's untimely death in a vicious drive-by shooting, and to ShitHouse Vorderman's subsequent trial, incarceration and comeback as TV-ad loan-shark and bio-narcotics queen.

Although the screenplay skips through the major events of its timeline, this is a film which doesn't pull any punches and director (also credited with creating the original format) Armand Jammot gets full value for money from his performers. The casting of four different actresses to play Carol Vorderman in the phases of her career is a nice touch (with the Marion Cotillard interpretation being notably stronger than the Julie Walters one). Tom Selleck is a natural for the Des Lynam era of the show, but Jammot's controversial choice of Laurence Fishburne to portray Richard Whiteley proves to be the film's greatest success; the lightness of touch and concealed threat that were the longtime host's trademark moves being brought effortlessly to the screen by the Matrix alumnus.

Of course, many will be watching the film for its cutting-edge soundtrack of Max Bygraves, Daniel O'Donnell and other proponents of the 1980s Tea-Time scene, and while they won't be disappointed, they'll no doubt be thrown off-track by the use of DMob's 'We Call It Acieed' during one of the training-montages. In any other film these would be a tired cliché, but with Straight Outta Countdown, they're an intriguing necessity.

Clocking in with a 15 Certificate, the script's foul language isn't offensive as such, but it certainly raises a few eyebrows (co-presenter Rachel Riley didn't earn the nickname 'C-Bomb' for her famous vitamin overdose). All of this takes place 'off-air', naturally, as does most of the film's narrative drive, with many of the most pivotal rounds of Countdown being shown only as snippets watched back by a furiously inebriated Vorderman in her underground maths-dungeon.

Never an easy watch but always an invigorating one, this film finally sets the record straight on the afternoon-gameshow-wars of the late 20th century.

Sure, you can have one from the bottom, but Straight Outta Countdown is all from the top…

If you can, do.

I believe Channel 4 are going to serialise it over the first week of November?

Absolutely.

In every way, yes.

I certainly bloody will.

There is, and it's magnificent.

The film's casting of Ian 'Emperor Palpatine' McDiarmid as Countdown's 2007 presenter Des O'Connor is nothing less than inspired.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.• Still confused? It's an extended bad pun on this.
• Yep, all of that for one weak joke which has already been bandwaggoned to death by everyone else.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.

Saturday, 29 August 2015

For the assembled faithful in Screen 5 on Friday, F. Gary Gray's regaling of the turbulent history of L.A. rap-group N.W.A. is a journey which begins before the BBFC card even makes an appearance, in the form of the trailer for the imminent (not to mention inexplicable) Ride Along 2. Because no matter what highs and lows will be explored among the 147 minutes of Straight Outta Compton, the audience can rest easy knowing the real tragic ending involves one of modern hip-hop's godfathers standing in faux-umbrage next to a shrieking Kevin Hart…

Covering the period of 1986 to 1996 Gray certainly delivers, and superficially, his film looks and sounds utterly magnificent. Okay, the first act is a little like a series of GTA cut-scenes, and it becomes apparent at this early stage that the story is told by deftly jumping between pivotal points in the development of N.W.A. and its ancillary projects. Feeling like a sort of visual Greatest Hits package, those unfamiliar with the broad history of the group should get plenty out of the film, and casual fans of the genre will be able to feel their way through the familiarity. The longtime, hardcore fan-base however, may find the telling a little contrived since so many of the incidents rely on the point-of-view of the narrator, and much of what happens here is already quasi-legendary.

The central cast are marvellous, with O'Shea Jackson Jr being a particular standout as Ice Cube. Jason Mitchell's performance as Eazy-E is similarly great when it's allowed time to breathe properly (see above). And helming the supporting cast is Paul Giamatti in his lengthy role as Jerry Heller, in a firm step towards his goal of securing the Guinness World Record for 'the most cinematic appearances as a transparently manipulative music manager within a year'.

As competently as the film replays the buildup of the Gangsta-scene, it's not really until the timeline reaches the L.A. riots of 1992 that it really feels like it has something more to say. Although by that point, it's so locked into its just-the-facts-ma'am methodology of storytelling that the weight of those events almost seems skipped over. At two and a half hours, it's by no means a short film, but I'd have happily had another sixty minutes or so if it meant getting a more personal perspective. As it stands, the film's not really doing anything new in itself, but what it does achieve is done so well that it doesn't really matter.

Straight Outta Compton is an engaging, if slightly perfunctory music biopic. Although with a setting and soundtrack as awesome as this, most of its flaws*1 are entirely forgivable…

If the music's your thing, yes.
But that's going to be a deal-breaker.
Obviously.

Providing the extras are up-to-scratch, this will be a buy-er.

The performances and performers themselves are magnificent, yes.

It probably does, although I don't think it achieves everything I wanted it to.
Which isn't what director F. Gary Gray had in mind, admittedly.

Nope.

Not that I heard, but the film does open with a pseudo boot-shot.

Dr. Dre is portrayed by Corey Hawkins who made an appearance in Iron Man 3, a film which starred Jon 'Pre Vizsla' Favreau.

*1 Little things like the scene where Eazy-E is diagnosed with AIDS, and is told that his pregnant girlfriend will also have to be tested. Do we learn how he (most likely) contracted HIV? No, we don't. Do we find out if his partner and unborn child were carrying it? No, we don't. Y'know, it's only like his film, after all.
Additionally, there are probably more than a few paragraphs to be written on the depiction and treatment of the (very few) women in the film, but the factual basis of the story means that you can't really blame the film itself, even though you don't have to be happy with it either.

DISCLAIMERS:
• ^^^ That's dry, British humour, and most likely sarcasm or facetiousness.
• Yen's blog contains harsh language and even harsher notions of propriety. Reader discretion is advised.
• This is a personal blog. The views and opinions expressed here represent my own thoughts (at the time of writing) and not those of the people, institutions or organisations that I may or may not be related with unless stated explicitly.